


Mistress Cabrera

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Marta Cabrera, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom Harlan Thrombey, Dom/sub, Domme Marta Cabrera, F/M, Healthy Relationships, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Non-Sexual Submission, Oral Sex, Professional Submissive, Pseudo-Incest, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex, Sub!Ransom, Swearing, Temperature Play, rich people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Marta was aware that the Thrombeys were an odd family: their huge sums of money created all sorts of bad qualities abundant in the whole family, but epitomized in Ransom Drysdale.The second oddity also related to Ransom: Harlan had created his fortune entirely through his own hard work and others in the family had businesses or jobs of their own. Ransom’s “job” seemed only to be spending his grandfather’s money and insulting people.So when Marta came into Harlan’s bedroom one morning to find Ransom knelt at Harlan’s feet, taking off the old man’s slippers, she froze.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera & Harlan Thrombey, Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale, Ransom Drysdale & Harlan Thrombey
Comments: 22
Kudos: 97





	1. An Odd Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an odd fic. I put 'psuedo-incest' because whilst there is no incest proper, some lines get blurry. The first chapter explains the premise fully, as well as the slightly questionable consent issues, see the note at the end for a summary if you need to.
> 
> Thanks so much to the_accidental_horcrux for betaing, much appreciated.  
> :D

Marta was aware that the Thrombeys were an odd family. Firstly, in terms of their wealth–the lavish homes, cars, clothes and other frivolous objects–it made her head spin during her first month working for Harlan. How could anyone ever be unhappy with enough money to be well-fed and warm all year round? She soon discovered, though, that huge sums of money came with their own problems: a false sense of entitlement, laziness, rudeness, generally being unpleasant. All qualities abundant in the whole family, of course, but epitomized in Ransom Drysdale.

Marta had never officially met him as he swanned in and out, barely looking at–let alone acknowledging–the staff. Fran _hated_ him, and had more than a few choice words that she gladly spilled to Marta every time the overgrown child had been by.

The second oddity was also related to Ransom Drysdale, or rather, his family’s acceptance of his behaviour. Harlan had created his fortune entirely through his own hard work and others in the family had businesses or jobs of their own. Ransom’s “job” seemed only to be spending his grandfather’s money and insulting people.

Marta hadn’t dared question Harlan about it, merely observing his fond and slightly exasperated reaction when Ransom said something ignorant or rude. Anyone else who was a target for Ransom’s careless tongue fought back or at least looked annoyed. Fran in particular gave him some spectacular scowls–though they were usually behind his back. The only person Marta had never seen Ransom insult was Grand Nana.

So when Marta came into Harlan’s bedroom one morning to find Ransom knelt at Harlan’s feet, taking off the old man’s slippers, she froze. Harlan looked up and smiled.

“Marta dear, good morning.”

Ransom ignored her presence, neatly putting the shoes to one side and rolling up Harlan’s pant legs. The movements were practised, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Come in, you’re letting the heat out,” Harlan admonished her. Wordlessly, Marta obeyed, eyes still lingering on Ransom’s back. She walked up to the foot of the bed where Harlan was sitting, placing her medical bag at his side whilst still half-watching Ransom. “I hope it won’t affect the drugs if I get a foot massage,” Harlan commented and Marta shook herself.

“No, it’s fine.” As she looked for the vials, Ransom retrieved a basin of hot water and gently lowered Harlan’s feet into it. Marta kept watching out of the corner of her eye, interest piqued. Ransom gently washed Harlan’s feet. From what she could see of his face, his expression seemed neutral, or just calm. 

Belatedly, she realized that Harlan was watching her in turn, a slight smile on his face. “What?” she asked, busying herself with the injections.

“Nothing,” Harlan replied sunnily, smile deepening. Ransom didn’t say anything. After the first injection, Ransom dried Harlan’s feet, pushing the basin away. He cradled one of Harlan’s feet in his hands, just resting it on a thigh and began massaging. Harlan grunted and then shivered. “I want to go through some papers today,” he began, as if his spoiled grandson wasn’t massaging his feet. Marta had brought her book as usual, so just nodded. Once she finished administering the last injection, Harlan patted the futon on his other side. “Come and take a load off.” Tentatively, she did so, not looking down at where Ransom was tending to the other foot.

“How are your feet these days?” Harlan asked her casually. Ransom’s breathing hitched and Marta got the idea.

“Oh, they’re fine. Better than fine.” Thank God they actually were, because she really didn’t want to have to bolt to the bathroom and miss anything. Harlan scrutinized her for a moment before leaning back.

“Well, if they ever need attention, Ransom would be happy to help. Wouldn’t you, my boy?” He cupped Ransom’s jaw, gently guiding the man’s face up. Ransom’s eyes darted between Harlan and Marta before he nodded minutely, expression oddly blank. Marta’s stomach squirmed as she considered what she was seeing – and more importantly – why she was being allowed to see it.

Once he was done, Ransom retrieved the slippers and carefully replaced them on Harlan’s feet. “Good,” Harlan said happily and Ransom’s expression softened. Standing, Harlan instructed. “Meet us in the study when you’re done.” Ransom nodded silently and moved back to let them leave.

The answer to this mystery felt like it was circling above Marta’s head, just out of reach. She helped Harlan down to his main study–the one for business as opposed to writing–and settled in the armchair next to the desk, book open on her lap. Harlan didn’t seem in a hurry to explain, so she turned her attention to the book, knowing that more evidence would be presented.

Sure enough, a little while later, Ransom padded into the room. Marta noticed that he was in socks and loose-fitting clothes, instead of his normal designer jeans and fine cotton shirts. She thought back, had he been in those clothes earlier? Yes, yes he had been.

Ignoring Marta, he went and knelt on Harlan’s other side. Harlan waited for a moment until Ransom had settled and then reached over, placing a hand in that fine, slightly wavy hair. Ransom’s eyes dropped closed and a tension Marta hadn’t noticed before melted away. Harlan continued working, occasionally having to take his hand away, but always returning it. Marta got used to it and managed to hold a conversation with Harlan about his latest book idea. Ransom didn’t seem to be listening, instead almost dozing on his knees. This continued until lunchtime, which was signalled when Ransom opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look up at Harlan.

“Is it time?” Harlan asked conversationally. Ransom nodded and Harlan smiled. “Go on then. We’ll lunch in the conservatory.” Nimbly, Ransom got to his feet and padded out of the room. Harlan’s smile deepened as he saw Marta watching. “I suppose you’ve wondered why Ransom doesn’t have formal employment like the rest of the family,” he began. Marta swallowed; the answer dropped fully-formed into her mind. Harlan nodded. “Yes, he services the family and is, in turn, taken care of. The tradition goes back several generations in my wife’s family and a few other old families in the area. I’ll explain in more detail later.” He stood and Marta hurried to help him. “Save any questions you have until we’re alone and, please, don’t laugh.”

Marta agreed, mind whirling.

Lunch was completely normal save for Ransom kneeling beside Harlan, occasionally being fed small bites of bread and cheese. Marta did her best to ignore the sight, and neither man mentioned it. When they were all done, Harlan sent Ransom off for a two-hour nap. He and Marta returned to his study.

“I’ll start from the beginning. Sometime in the late 1800s, my dear wife’s ancestors began to expand the role of the youngest sibling. Before, as you may know, the youngest daughter would have been expected to serve as a nurse for her ageing parents. One generation decided that the youngest’s duties would also include sexual favours for her brothers-in-law – to keep them from straying. Over the next few generations, they experimented with this concept and made an agreement with a few of the other well-to-do families to avoid incest.”

“Incest,” Marta repeated flatly.

“Yes, the past is a peculiar place at times. By the time my wife came of age, the arrangement had evolved like this: the youngest child, man or woman, from each family would not marry, instead servicing the older generation. Sexual service was reserved only for members of another family or more removed family members. Each ‘server’ as they were called, was supervised by a close relative to guard against abuse. Unfortunately, or fortunately for me, my wife’s older brothers died in WWII, meaning she was allowed to marry me.”

Marta blinked, heart reaching out to Harlan as he paused. He hardly mentioned his late wife, but his love for her was plain in his face. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued.

“The elders’ insisted that she still carry out her duties and I became her supervisor.” Interlinking his fingers, Harlan’s voice deepened. “This arrangement is not without problems – jealousy and misunderstandings do happen – but at the same time, it has kept things in order. I had my doubts about Linda marrying Richard, but this system has kept everything running smoothly.” He paused, eyes scanning Marta’s face.

Gulping, Marta rasped, “Uh, that’s…”

Harlan chuckled. “I am aware of how ‘unusual’ this is, and you can take time to digest it.”

“Why?” Marta blurted. “Why are you telling me?” 

Harlan’s eyes softened and his gaze turned inward as he explained. “I’m old and I don’t have long left. I had trained Neil to take over Ransom’s care, but…” His eyes snapped back to Marta, his voice turning urgent. “Marta, I fear none of my family would be able to look after him properly.”

Her stomach bottomed out. “You don’t mean...?”

“I do.”

“But…I mean. Ransom?”

Harlan grinned. “Yes, it’s quite a transformation, isn’t it?”

“And Linda and Richard agreed to this?” she asked. Harlan’s expression smoothed out.

“It is every server’s choice once they turn 18. They are only made aware of the choice the months before that day. When Ransom was a child, Linda hoped he would follow in her footsteps and build his own company but as he grew older, it became clear he would benefit from a more structured life.” 

Trying to fit it all together in her head, Marta pointed out, “He’s the firstborn.”

“Yes and usually it would be a second or third child, but Linda didn’t want more and Neil and Walt both had children so there was no threat to the bloodline. Marta, my dear, whatever else you think of this, please don’t assume Ransom had no choice. It was his decision – he recognized that this role suited him. He likes doing this, feeling useful.” Marta opened her mouth to reply but Harlan held a hand up. “Let’s leave it there for now. Ransom is scheduled to serve at the Mullers’ for the next week. You think about it, and let me know if you have any questions on another day.”

Marta nodded absently and remained a little spaced out for the rest of the day, sleepwalking through giving Harlan his evening meds and talking with her mama before going to bed. She kept on seeing Ransom on his knees, strong hands kneading Harlan’s feet, pink tongue darting out to eat pieces of bread. She shuddered and pressed her legs together. What was wrong with her?

Unable to sleep, she borrowed her sister’s laptop and did some research. She had heard vaguely of BDSM but didn’t know more than the basics. Long into the night, she searched, looking up social norms and conventions, limits, safe words, consent, as well as live-in arrangements, and professional sub- there were professional submissives? Well, she supposed that was what Ransom was doing, just in an incestual group.

Harlan had told her that Ransom’s parents ‘used’ a sub from another family, but it still felt too close for comfort. She wondered how often Richard, and maybe Linda, took advantage of this arrangement and how they felt about it. Stomach churning, she asked herself – did she _want_ to know? When she finally logged off, she knew one thing: if she was going to do this, she’d have to speak to Ransom.

…

Neither Marta nor Harlan mentioned it again until Ransom was set to return from the Muller manor. That morning, Harlan was stiff with tension. 

After Marta administered his morning meds, he ordered sharply, “Bring your medkit to Ransom’s room.”

“What’s wrong?” 

Harlan indicated for her to go ahead down the stairs as he replied, voice tight, “He came back last night and went straight to his room. Lauren rang me this morning to _apologize_.”

“Lauren?”

“Lauren Muller. I trust her to look over proceedings with him when I can’t,” he sighed, “or I thought I could.” They reached the bedroom and Harlan signalled for her to knock before she could think of more questions. No response.

“Ransom, we’re coming in!” Harlan called and Marta opened the door. Clothes were strewn over the floor, shoes upside down by the dresser, the curtains haphazardly drawn and Ransom himself was sprawled face-down on the bed. Harlan lowered himself into the desk chair as Marta went into nurse mode, gently waking him and getting his undershirt off. Ransom grumbled but followed her directions groggily. Marta pressed her lips together as she catalogued the injuries. Although the bruising over his back and sides was extensive, none of it looked serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, at least they’d spared the lower back. What _did_ worry her was the bandage wrapped around one of his wrists.

“What happened?” she asked, putting on some gloves. Ransom avoided her gaze and shrugged minutely. Harlan made a noise from behind her but Marta ignored him, instead lifting Ransom’s chin with a soft touch. “I can’t take care of it unless you tell me.”

His dark blue eyes searched hers for a long moment before he relented. “I struggled too much.” 

Although she felt sick, Marta only nodded. “Thank you.”

“Good boy,” Harlan commented and Marta felt Ransom’s shiver, his pupils dilating slightly. All the reading hadn’t prepared her for first-hand experience. Mentally shaking herself, she carefully unwrapped the wrist and examined the thin, red lines. The cuts had been shallow and were beginning to scab over.

“Police-grade handcuffs?” Harlan guessed and Ransom nodded, face blank. Marta cleaned the remaining dried blood, dabbing the drops of fresh blood and applying a salve. Ransom winced but otherwise didn’t complain.

Marta wrapped the wrist again and examined the other one. Bruised, but the skin hadn’t broken.

“We’ll wait a day or two before trying heat treatments on these.” She indicated to his sides. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” The sullen look came back. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she supplied sternly, “pants off then.” 

Ransom looked at her incredulously, sneer beginning to show. “You can’t give me orders.”

“Ransom…” Harlan rumbled, which made the young man shift uncomfortably, but Marta held up a hand.

“You’re right. You don’t have to follow my orders, but on medical matters it would be stupid not to.” He opened his mouth. “Unless you want puss seeping out of your asshole.” His jaw clicked shut. 

He glanced quickly at Harlan before laughing nervously. “That…that doesn’t happen.” 

Marta sat back, serenely confident. “Are you sure? Anal infections are a nasty business.” 

Ransom eyed her thoughtfully, eyes darting over her face. Finally, he sighed and hung his head. “Okay,” he rasped and lifted his hips up, helping her pull his pants and underwear down. Whether through defiance or pride, he made no attempt to cover himself, but used to working with people’s intimate areas, she just glanced to check there wasn’t any damage. His gaze was hot on her face but once she continued with her assessment, he looked away. 

There were more bruises on his hips, they looked like finger marks, but his legs seemed undamaged. Reluctantly, he got on his hands and knees so she could examine his anus. Although the skin and muscle was tender, there wasn’t any bleeding and she didn’t find any traces of semen. She gave him some painkillers and helped him dress in pajamas.

“Lots of rest and fluids for the next few days,” she told him firmly, and after looking over her face a moment, he glanced behind her.

“Her orders are my orders,” Harlan confirmed. 

Ransom swallowed and bowed his head. “Yes, master.” 

Marta busied herself by packing up, trying to ignore her sex clenching excitedly. She promised to look in on Ransom later and extracted a promise from him to call if he felt anything odd.

Once she and Harlan were settled in his office, she anticipated his question. “I need to talk to Ransom before I make any decisions.” He nodded, expression turning grave as she questioned, “What happened?”

Rubbing his forehead, he explained slowly. “Lauren dropped the ball, let her nephew have Ransom unsupervised.” Huffing, his voice rose. “Impetuous boy, didn’t notice the blood until after he was done.” 

Slightly heartened by the anger in Harlan’s tone, Marta was still disturbed by the events. “Why didn’t Ransom use his safe word?” 

Harlan blinked as if he hadn’t asked himself that question. “You’ll have to ask him, but in the heat of the moment, sometimes the pain doesn’t register.” Marta pursed her lips, Ransom’s mumble _I struggled too much_ echoing in her head. Her stomach twisted and she tried to put it out of her mind.

Ransom was watching something on his phone when she checked on him. He seemed a little more relaxed but was obviously still sore. He sat up and submitted to her checks but his expression was hard and he avoided her eyes. 

As she moved away, he muttered, “I’m only doing this for him.” She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. He continued, voice a little louder, “You don’t own me.”

“You’re right. No one owns you. You’re free to choose.”

He didn’t reply. Pushing through her discomfort, she offered, “when you’ve healed, we can talk about it.” Face still turned down, he made a childish face completely incongruous with his classic features and hulking physique. She almost laughed, but managed to retain her composure. “Do you want some more painkillers?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. 

Sitting back, she regarded him for a long moment, waiting for him to glance up at her. “I know you’re in pain and facing a difficult situation, but I am still a human being. The least you can do is look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

Throughout her speech, his spine had been straightening, jaw slackening. 

When she finished, a little taken aback by her own tone, he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I would like some painkillers, please ma-” He cut himself off, blushing ever so slightly.

“That’s better.”

Ransom shifted a little and then winced. She handed him the pills and some water. Once he’d taken them, he lay back down and she drew the curtains closed.

…

Two days later, Marta deemed it safe enough to apply heat and gently massage the bruised areas to increase blood flow and encourage healing. The cuts on his wrist were also healing well and Ransom had fully recovered his sneering, superior attitude, watching her with suspicion as she arranged him on his stomach. He definitely enjoyed the massage, if his little grunts and sighs were any indication. 

When she was done, she patted his shoulder. “Better?”

Sullenly, he didn’t reply.

“Can you get up a minute?”

Huffing, he complied stiffly and she made a concerted effort not to look at his bare chest. “I know you’re not thrilled with the idea of me taking over from Harlan,” his scowl deepened but he didn’t say anything, “but he would never have suggested it if there was a better option. You know that, right?” 

He grunted and Marta just raised an eyebrow until he sighed dramatically. “Yes, ma-” He shifted, obviously frustrated.

She controlled her tone when questioning him, “What, specifically, do you object to?”

“You’re an outsider,” he replied immediately. At her hard gaze, he went on defiantly, “you’re poor.” 

She fought to keep her voice steady as she replied. “And yet, I am your best option.” And didn’t he hate that? She felt a slither of satisfaction as she continued faux-casually, “unless you want Walt to-”

“No!” he blurted loudly. They both stared at each other for a long moment.

“Alright. Well, I can’t do anything to change the things you don’t like about me, but I could learn how to look after you.” 

That hung in the air until he questioned. “Why? Why would you agree to this?”

“I think you’re an asshole, but Harlan loves you, and I think you love him too.” Ransom’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe in the future, there’ll be someone else who could take on the role, but I know it would give Harlan peace to know I am an option until then.” Ransom seemed to consider her words and she let him. 

Finally, his gaze hardened. “Or you want to let him think that, but you just want power over me. You’ll lord it over me when he’s gone and trap me here where all your friends can use me!” 

Shocked at his accusation, she only stared at him. When her brain started up again, there were too many things to unpack so she started with his conviction that she had a selfish motive. Sitting up, she looked him in the eye and said slowly and clearly, “When Harlan dies I plan to use my power to use you against your will and not take care of you as Harlan would want.” 

For a beat, he just frowned, not sure what to make of her words. Then her stomach growled and she dashed for the en suite. Hurling into the toilet, she was glad she hadn’t had lunch yet. Once she was done, she flushed and sat back to see Ransom holding out a glass of water. She rinsed her mouth out and thanked him, standing. 

He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. “You could have just told me the truth.”

“I did,” she pointed out, “you didn’t believe me.” She took another sip of water as he digested that. Standing up straight, he pursed his lips and then bowed his head.

“I’ll try to believe you next time, ma’am.” 

Smiling, a surge of warmth coursed through her. “I don’t doubt it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incest[?]: Basically there is a network of rich families in the area that 'share' some of their younger members as subs, each sub having a dom from their own family, usually a cousin or uncle/aunt. The sub/dom relationships are not sexual, but the subs sexually serve non-family members in order to keep any 'shenanigans' in house. The subs decide for themselves if it is a role they want to take on when they come of age, they're only told a few months before their birthday that it's a thing.  
> Dubious consent: One of the members of this network physically hurts Ransom in the first chapter, leaving minor but painful injuries. Ransom didn't enjoy the experience, but didn't use his safe-word; the dubious consent comes in the grey area of what exactly happened [it happens off-screen and we only hear Ransom's version of events] and how Ransom views his own limits.  
> Let me know if you need more detail or if you think any tags are missing.


	2. Learning

Harlan’s relief and delight with Ransom’s agreement was clear on his face, and he wasted no time in beginning training. Marta learned not only Ransom’s safe words and hard limits, but also his expressions and body language. There were commonalities and norms on the limitations of certain positions and actions before a person became uncomfortable or in pain, but everyone was different. Harlan put Ransom through his paces and Marta observed, learning to see when he was reaching his limits.

Harlan had warned Marta privately that Ransom was reluctant to use his safe word; sometimes he endured unnecessary pain or discomfort like it was a challenge.

“He’s always been like that. I’ve never been able to train him out of it.” 

Marta thought for a moment and then suggested, “Maybe as he gets older it’ll get harder to maintain.” 

Harlan snorted and countered, “Or he’ll become even more stubborn, thinking he can do the same things he could when he was young.”

“I’ll keep an eye on that,” Marta promised, and Harlan smiled wearily. Harlan had been sticking to non-sexual submission: receiving and giving care, feeding, and different kneeling positions. For the sexual aspect, he enlisted Lauren’s help. She had 60-odd years and looked like an empress in casual wear–high arching eyebrows, a regal nose and an imperious voice. 

She looked down her nose at Marta at first but after seeing Marta order Ransom to his knees and check his posture, the woman gave a slight nod. “Not bad,” she commented and turned to Harlan. “We’ll come and get you once we’re done.”

Harlan ran a hand down the side of Ransom’s face. “Be good.”

“Yes, master,” Ransom breathed. Giving Marta a reassuring smile, Harlan left. Lauren directed her to sit and watch.

“Strip,” she ordered, and Marta tried to control her blush as Ransom took off his clothes and laid them neatly on the nearest chair. Marta averted her gaze but Lauren tutted. “For goodness sake girl, haven't you seen a naked man before?” Marta had, actually, but only as a nurse, or for sex. “You can’t command him if you can’t see him.” This felt like perving. Still, Lauren had a point, so she looked. Ransom seemed a little uncomfortable himself but kept his gaze forward, standing to attention.

Her eyes swept downwards, taking in the trail of surprisingly light hair stretching from his sculpted abs to his average-size penis. At least, as far as she could tell from this distance. Lauren came up and presented Marta with a small, plastic object. “Do you know what this is?” 

Marta took it hesitantly, examining it. “No,” she admitted. 

Lauren explained simply, “It’s a cock cage.” Marta fought the urge to drop it. “Another day we’ll handle all things penis-related but for today it’ll be cleaner if we lock it up.” Marta looked up at her, gulping. Lauren sighed impatiently. “He knows how to put it on.” 

Marta steeled herself and walked over to Ransom, even more aware of how much skin was on display. She held out the thing but Ransom just looked at her. For a second she thought he was being difficult, but his expression was blank, not superior. Then, she figured it out and wanted to hit herself.

“Put this on,” she ordered shortly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, taking it from her.

“Slowly,” she added, “so I can watch.” 

He nodded and, with practiced hands, put it on, keeping the device and his member in view so she could see. It was fairly straightforward and she was confident she would be able to do it on the first try. His breathing hitched a little as he attached it though if she hadn’t been standing so close, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Good.” Lauren snapped Marta out of her thoughts. “How much do you know about clamps?”

Lauren kept a fast pace, running through different torture devices – nipple clamps, pegs, whips, paddles, electric shock wands. By the end of it, Ransom was panting and groaning, a fine sheen of sweat over his face and chest. Marta feeling more and more overwhelmed. 

Lauren called for a break. “Ransom, after this we’re going to move onto bondage. You can only come once today. Do you want to come now or later?”

Although his penis was clearly straining against the confines of the cage, he let out a shaky breath and chose.“Later, ma’am.” 

She nodded shortly and directed Mara to fetch Harlan. When they returned, Ransom was wrapped up in a flannel dressing down, lying down on the futon, his head in Lauren’s lap. She was carding her fingers through his hair, humming softly.

“How are they faring?” Harlan asked, taking a seat as if he always encountered his grandson being petted like a cat. 

Lauren considered. “It’s a good start. We shall see.” 

Harlan hummed and Marta had to look away from the fond look on his face. She had an important job to do and couldn’t afford to get side-tracked, distracted by Harlan or by Ransom.

They all had tea, Ransom reluctantly sitting up to drink some, seemingly unconcerned by his flimsy coverings. Harlan and Lauren chatted happily about mutual friends and local business, Ransom evidently not listening. After a while, Marta felt him watching her out of the corner of her eye and she faced him square on. They held each other’s gaze, the only thing she sensed from him was curiosity.

Her sex pulsed in anticipation. She was more familiar with the concept of bondage and it didn’t take much imagination to picture Ransom tied up and writhing, panting and begging for release. She crossed her legs and his lips quirked upwards. Damn. She tried to stare back serenely but his smirk only deepened.

“Recovered?” Lauren broke into their staring match. 

Ransom bowed his head. “Yes, ma’am.” Marta set down her cup and nodded.

The next part of the session was more hands-on for Marta, as Lauren insisted she try each type of rope and knot a few times before using them to tie up Ransom, who watched patiently. The first time she used the rope on him was nerve-wracking, especially as she felt not only Lauren’s but Ransom’s gaze on her. She had to secure his wrists together with a handcuff knot but his bare body was so close, breath tickling the top of her head. Her fingers were stiff and she fumbled. Finally getting it right, she looked up and froze, seeing Ransom’s dark blue eyes on hers, pupils dilated.

Lauren made her move back so she could examine the knot. She deemed it acceptable and pointed out the signs that it wasn’t too tight.

“Flex,” she ordered and Ransom obeyed. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Good, ma’am. Tight but it might get looser if I really went for it.” 

Lauren hummed. “Struggle a little, not too hard.” Marta’s mouth went dry as she watched his arm muscles flex and twist, expression scrunched in concentration. She saw what he meant as the rope slackened, the knot loosening. “Enough,” Lauren ordered and Ransom relaxed. Lauren directed Marta to try again and as she undid the not, her fingers brushed Ransom’s skin. His breathing was heavier and a quick glance down confirmed that he was semi-hard. Marta gulped and concentrated on her task.

She finished and Ransom confirmed it was tighter. They tried a few more positions with different knots, Marta growing more confident and Ransom’s cock hardening. At full mast, it was a decent size, the tip bright red and leaking pre-come. Lauren looked at her watch.

“That’s enough for today.” She glanced at Marta, who dragged her gaze away from Ransom’s cock. “You give him permission.” Marta nodded absently and Ransom looked up at her with a complicated expression on his face. Lauren put a condom on him and slicked up a hand, ordering Ransom to stand. His arms were still tied behind his back but he didn’t have any trouble balancing. “Tell your mistress when you’re close,” she ordered and then began jerking him off. Ransom’s eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip. Marta’s own breathing sped up as she watched. 

It only took a few minutes for him to blurt. “I’m close, ma’am. Please…please may I come?” 

Marta started, suddenly remembering that was her cue. “Yes.” He whined and Lauren raised an eyebrow at Marta. “Uh…you can come,” Marta added hurriedly and watched as he did immediately, upper body curling, and face scrunching. Whilst she’d had sex, Marta had never watched a man come in isolation, had never controlled when he did. It gave her a rush and she shivered a little.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he wheezed.

“Good boy,” Lauren praised, though Ransom looked too blissed out to react. “Now aftercare.”

Lauren supervised Marta untying him, throwing away the condom and wiping him down before dressing him in pyjamas. All the while, the thickly muscled man was as docile and sleepy as a domesticated large cat.

Ransom joined Harlan for his afternoon nap, the two curling up together. As Marta had been helping Harlan into bed, unconscious of what her expression was showing, Harlan had explained.

“Physical contact is important after most sessions. Stops you from crashing, doesn’t it?” He addressed Ransom’s wiggly form, who’d finally got comfortable and sighed.

“Yes, master.” Head spinning a little, Marta just nodded and left them to it.

...

Bondage part two took place a few days later in the disconcerting presence of a harness and sex swing. Ransom junior had to be firmly locked away “so as not to drip everywhere” as Lauren had put it. Ransom’s nonchalance about the contraption reassured Marta slightly and once she’d been taught how it worked and how to spot and fix problems with the mechanism, it became less intimidating. She still didn’t like it though. Being responsible for another person’s wellbeing was something Marta was familiar with, but supervising them in that thing was not something she wanted to do.

Once the lesson was over, Ransom was lowered and freed, resting on his knees. Lauren had decided earlier that Ransom wasn’t to come that day.

“You can’t spoil him too much. He must please and obey you on days he won’t come as much as days it is a possibility.” She scratched the base of his skull and he leaned into her touch. “That is how you determine true obedience as opposed to paying lip service.” Marta didn’t voice her doubt that Ransom would never truly accept her authority, instead nodding and watching Lauren pet him some more.

Lauren met her gaze. “You should get accustomed to each other’s touch. Come here,” she ordered Marta. Nerves alight, Marta padded over. Ransom’s eyes slid open and followed her until she was towering above him. Tentatively, she sank a hand into his hair. He didn’t move but as she stroked gently, he relaxed.

“Does that feel good?” she asked softly, genuinely curious.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured back. Slowly, she kept up a steady rhythm and increased the pressure. Ransom hummed and shifted slightly. Marta experimented, running her hands over different parts of his head, using the pads of her fingers to massage pressure points.

After a while, she asked, “How’re your knees?”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Alright.” Lauren invaded their bubble. Marta reluctantly removed her hand and Ransom’s eyes opened slowly. “Go and get changed,” Lauren ordered. Ransom hesitated, glancing at Marta, who nodded primly. He obeyed. Lauren addressed Marta after he’d gone. “You’re adjusting well to the role.”

“I am?” Marta asked.

Lauren raised her eyebrow and pointed out, “He recognizes your authority.” With a wry grin, she continued. “He wants to serve you. That is half the battle.” 

Marta swallowed, the pleasant warmth inside her fighting against the dread.


	3. The Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have no doubt you’ll protect him,” Laura conceded finally, “but your responsibilities are not only to him. There is a community, we must all learn to do our part.”   
> Biting back her opinion of the ‘community’, Marta watched Lauren leave. Not for the first time she wondered what she’d gotten mixed up in. She went to find Ransom.

Over the weeks, Marta started believing Lauren’s assertion. She and Ransom found their rhythm; Marta giving small orders and Ransom following them, even platonic and comforting touches they both enjoyed. Marta also learned more about different types of play and began instinctively recognizing Ransom’s tells – when he genuinely enjoyed something and when he was pretending. 

At one point, Marta was watching him writhing under her ice cube, teasing his nipples, when she saw a flinch pass over his face. She withdrew the cube and gently wiped the cold water off his chest.

“Ransom.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you enjoy temperature play?” 

“No, ma’am,” he admitted after a short pause.

“You have a word to express discomfort, why didn’t you use it?”

“My discomfort wasn’t that bad.” When she just stared at him, he continued, “I can take what you give me, ma’am.” His strained voice in her head echoed:  _ I struggled too much. _

“Up.” She moved back so he could sit up. Cupping his chin firmly, she said, “Any time I am dominating you, you will tell me if you are in pain or uncomfortable. No matter what you believe my expectations are.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered slowly, eyes wide.

“How about we take a break?” Lauren suggested. Marta glanced at her before nodding. 

“Go, put on something warm,” Marta ordered. Ransom nodded, slipping out. 

“Careful, you’ll spoil him,” Laura warned.

“His job is to serve, not to suffer.”

“Sometimes mild suffering is what is required.”

“No!” Marta burst out, sick of the cold, clinical gaze from the woman who’d let Ransom be beaten. “He is a person, not a punching bag.”

“He won’t just be serving you. Others have different needs. You are still learning.”

“Maybe the others are the ones who need to be educated, the ones who are spoiled. There is a difference between mutual sadomasochism and just plain  _ sadism _ .” Lauren didn’t reply, instead lifting her chin. Marta’s resolve wavered but she didn’t lower her gaze.

“I have no doubt you’ll protect him,” Laura conceded finally, “but your responsibilities are not only to him. There is a community, we must all learn to do our part.” 

Biting back her opinion of the ‘community’, Marta watched Lauren leave. Not for the first time she wondered what she’d gotten mixed up in. She went to find Ransom.

“I would ask if you meant it,” he began as she entered his room, “but you didn’t puke so…”

“You still don’t believe me,” she finished for him. 

Stamping into some slippers, he sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m messed up in the head, my weird family has scarred me for life.” 

Marta frowned. “I never said that.” 

Jamming his hands into his hoodie pockets, Ransom shrugged. “Didn’t have to, it’s written all over your face.” 

Seeing his hunched shoulders, her heart twinged. “Well, I’ll spare you my sentimentality but I will point out,” she continued over his chuckle, “that professional subs are a thing. You don’t need this if you don’t want it.” 

He regarded her a moment before answering softly, “But then you wouldn’t get to be my mistress.” 

She held his gaze. “And that would be terrible for both of us?” 

He opened his mouth but then shut it again, reconsidering. When he did speak, his words were awkward but honest. “Yeah, okay... I want to please you. I…” He coughed. 

Marta stepped closer. “Yes?”

“I want to be allowed to touch you,” her heart rate picked up and he shuffled forward, “kiss you,” his voice lowered, “make you come harder than you ever have before.” 

Swallowing, she ignored the red hot flush in her cheeks. “Do you, now?” Her voice was a lot fainter than she’d intended. He hummed, suddenly seemingly right on top of her. “Well,” she whispered, “we can’t always get what we want.” His eyelids twitched and the corners of his mouth pinched slightly. “Sorry.” She cupped his cheek, fingertips pressing into his hair soothingly.

“I know how to use toys,” he murmured. “Could just vibe you, if it pleased you, mistress.” 

Shivering, she gripped some of his hairs and pulled his head back a little. “I’ll think about it.” She let him go. “Are you hungry? For food.”

“Yes, mistress.” 

She smiled. “Wait until you calm down, then join us.” 

Eyes warm, he replied. “Yes, mistress.”

Lauren had obviously talked to Harlan; his expression was serious but tinged with sympathy when Marta found him.

“I hear you’re going to start a revolution,” he opened sardonically. 

Marta pushed down her frustration at the condescension. “I’m just drawing a line between service and abuse.”

“My dear, I respect your opinion, but do not presume to accuse me of abusing my grandson.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything, but I must make clear that I will not tolerate anyone abusing him,” she looked him in the eye and stressed, “ _ not anyone. _ ”

“Your definition of abuse might differ from others’.”

“Mine is the only one that matters.”

“I didn’t bring you on to break the system or burn bridges.”

“No, you brought me into this to take care of Ransom, protect him. That is exactly what I will do.”

Harlan sat back in his chair, thinking. Finally, he sighed. “It won’t be easy. They will fight you.” 

Marta nodded sharply. “I’ll be ready.” 

Harlan smiled a little. “Of that, I have no doubt.” His expression fell again. “Just know that he might fight you, too.” 

Marta’s stomach twisted but she didn’t reply, trying to prepare herself for that eventuality.

…

Although Marta couldn’t be entirely sure, she guessed that Lauren bringing her to a Gathering was intended to cultivate an appreciation for the community. Servers could be loaned out to individuals or small groups but occasionally there were large parties (read  _ orgies _ ) that had to be serviced. Lauren explained on the way to the Moore Estate that some would choose to only ‘couple’ with their married partner or ‘see to themselves’ but many would want to play. 

Marta tried to keep her breathing even, uncomfortable in the demure but fine silk dress and stockings. She had consciously not asked Harlan where he had procured the clothes, only accepting his approving nod with an awkward one of her own. 

Ransom had been set loose and was presumably drinking and gambling in the next city over, so he hadn’t seen her transformation, hadn’t quirked an eyebrow or rolled his eyes or maybe licked his lips…Not that Marta had spent much time imagining his possible reactions, nor had she been disappointed she hadn’t had the chance to see any reactions he might have had. 

Really.

They hadn’t spoken in earnest since his confession and her declaration but Marta sensed a shift in their relationship. Neither of them were reluctant anymore; they were both embracing their roles wholeheartedly. It was part of the reason Marta insisted Ransom not pleasure her; if she let go…who knew what the Hell would happen?

Thankfully, Harlan and Lauren seemed to expect or simply accept this decision and didn’t insist on the two being physically intimate.

As they pulled up to the main house – impressive if she hadn’t become accustomed to Harlan’s – Lauren reminded her, “Don’t speak if you can avoid it. You are obviously foreign to this family – but we’re trying to evade scrutiny. Hopefully most of them will already be too preoccupied to notice you.” 

Nodding mutely, Marta followed her inside. 

Per the briefing, Lauren introduced Marta to the host as the daughter-in-law of a family friend who was at a loose end. The hostess simply looked at Marta’s face and invited her in.

“They’re in the upstairs study,” she told them before marching off to the kitchens, muttering to herself. 

The study was quite large, fitting in three couches and several armchairs arranged in a loose circle around a coffee table in the middle. There was a loveseat by the window and various tables and bookshelves lining the walls, though there were plenty of patches of floor space to lie down comfortably. The grand fireplace hosted a low fire, and the furnishings were warm oranges and rich reds. 

Marta thought she had mentally prepared for entering an orgy – she’d watched some porn through her fingers, face red and heartbeat excitedly – but being there in the flesh, seeing the bodies in various states of undress and actually having sex was still a shock. Averting her gaze from genitals – a hard task – Marta shadowed Lauren, following her and sitting on an unoccupied couch.

After a few minutes of not sipping the alcoholic drink she’d been handed, Marta reluctantly began looking around. She quickly identified two servers: youngish women, completely naked aside from the leather collars around their necks and nipple clamps. One was on all fours being taken from behind by a middle-aged man; his rumpled business suit almost more obscene than his bare backside or the hand fisted into the server’s red hair. The other server, a platinum blonde, was squirming under the pussy of a thirty-something woman wearing pearls and presumably no underwear beneath her long skirts. A man knelt beside them, stroking himself slowly, patiently; pre-come dribbling onto the server’s stomach.

One of the other couples was making out on the loveseat near the window, seemingly oblivious to everyone else. 

Next, Marta turned her attention to identifying the supervisors, which took longer. The man screwing the red-headed server was going pretty hard, but from what she could see of the server’s face was blissed out and the man kept on muttering things which made her toss her head and moan. There was another, older man lounging in an armchair, attention torn between both servers; his body language was relaxed but with sharp eyes. Interesting…

“Bryson,” Lauren whispered to Marta, “he’s the supervisor to both. They’re cousins.” 

Marta wondered if the pair had been close growing up and found it odd to be subbing their family’s friends together. Had they trained together? What relation was Bryson to them? After the woman being eaten out came loudly, Marta decided that she didn’t want to know.

She caught Bryson looking her way and held his gaze steadily. His expression didn’t change from polite interest, eyes eventually moving back to the tableau just as the business man came.

As he pulled back, Mata gasped quietly. Long ribbons of come trailed out from the server’s vagina. 

Lauren saw it too and tutted. “Sloppy.”

The man accepted a towel from another woman who Marta guessed was his wife from the ring and line of tension in her shoulders. Bryson signalled and the server crawled over to him, still panting heavily.

“Did you finish?” he asked her lowly. 

She shook her head, answering in a breathy, high-pitched voice, “No, master.”

He didn’t reply, but must have given some non-visual cue as she turned to face the room, kneeling on her haunches, hands crossed behind her back. Her head was tilted forward slightly, gaze on the ground; her breasts heaved until her breathing steadied. Every so often she bit her lip, the clamps still clinging tightly. Marta had to cross her legs and didn’t dare look at Lauren.

The other group was finishing up. The server now sucking the man’s dick as the woman spanked her. When the man came and pulled back, Marta was reassured to see he’d been wearing a condom. She puzzled at that – were condoms used by preference or levels of trust? 

The newly free server returned to her master and confirmed that she hadn’t come. Bryson glanced over to Lauren and Marta, then murmured something. The blonde crawled over and knelt in front of Marta.

“Ma’am,” she addressed Marta’s feet, “would you like me to pleasure you?” 

Face heating up but refusing to appear flustered, Marta replied smoothly, “Not tonight, thank you.”

The woman hesitated before nodding and retreating. Bryson nodded and the servers removed each other’s clamps, handing them off to Bryson before lying down and making out.

Bryson rose and approached them. Lauren stood, greeting him warmly. Marta got to her feet as well.

“You’ll be taking over for Harlan,” Bryson said to her, not sounding at all interested. Not sure how to respond, Marta just nodded. Bryson hummed. “The boy’s a handful to be sure. Not nearly as well-trained as my girls, though he has his own charm.” His gaze turned distant, as if remembering something specific. “Well-groomed, high stamina.”

Thoroughly repulsed by how the man talked about the servers, Marta just looked at him.

“Are you sure you won’t partake?” he asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

“Thank you for the offer, but no,” she answered shortly. Bryson regarded her another moment before turning to talk to Lauren. Marta listened out for interesting information even as she looked around the room.

The couple at the back was now fucking in earnest; the possibly married couple were tangled together, the wife trying to push the husband’s hands below her dress. The other people seemed to be redressing, chatting idly without shame for their bodies or care for the continuing sex around them. 

Lauren and Bryson’s conversation came to a natural end and Bryson checked the time on his watch. He smiled at them both before going back to his chair. 

Lauren also checked the time, explaining to Marta, “It’s been going on for a while but I was expecting-” 

Loud voices from down the corridor interrupted her and Marta’s body stiffened in response – recognizing drunken idiots before they even stumbled into the room. Everyone not currently having sex paused to look. 

Marta hated them on sight. The leader had the same haircut and clothes as Jacob Thrombey but was nearing 30 by the looks of it. His expression was casually cruel and entitled; his eyes found the servers and she knew with terrible certainty that this was the man who had beaten Ransom for his own pleasure. His lackeys appeared equally arrogant if less sure about what they wanted.

“Uncle Bryson.” The leader barked, opening his arms as if to hug the man whose lip was curling subtly.

“Teddy,” Lauren muttered under her breath to Marta. “I hope you didn’t drive here,” she sternly addressed the man in question.

“Aunt Lauren!” Teddy exclaimed with false joy, completely brushing off her tone. “Leave us alone. We have drivers.” He swaggered forward, eyes fixed on the servers. Bryson’s eyes narrowed and the servers looked up at him nervously.

The hostess reappeared at the door. “Teddy! When did you sneak in? Champers?” 

“Nah.” Teddy waved her off, staggering up to Bryson’s chair. 

“I hope you’re not going to help yourself without permission,” Bryson declared preemptively as one of Teddy’s hands reached down towards the women. Teddy straightened, face supremely annoyed. 

Through gritted teeth, Teddy ‘requested’, “Please, dear uncle, I’d like a go on one of the servers, as is the purpose of this party.” 

“You remember the rules, I assume.”

Teddy nodded stiffly, muscles tense with barely-controlled anger. Marta could not believe that Bryson was considering letting the basket case near his servers. She glanced at Lauren and saw her tight expression. Lauren shook her head slightly in warning, gaze still fixed on the scene. Now the two men seemed to be negotiating.

“I want her ass-”

“You won’t be getting that tonight-”

“Why not?”

“You know why. No more complaining or you won’t touch a hair on either of their heads.”

Teddy swallowed, eyes burning but he shrugged. “Fine.”

“Condoms, Cirilla, if you please,” Bryson ordered and the red-haired server crawled to a side table, taking three and bringing them back to her master. 

“Julia, do you remember your safe word?” he asked the blonde server. She nodded, eyes flickering quickly up and down Teddy. Bryson said her name again and asked for her safe word.

“Peppermint,” she replied quietly.

Bryson eyed Teddy. “What is her safe word?”

“I heard it,” Teddy grunted.

Bryson’s eyes flashed and he snapped, “What is it?”

Teddy blinked before repeating mockingly slowly, “Peppermint.”

Bryson didn’t reply, merely nodding and watching as Teddy grabbed Julia’s arm, half-dragging her to an empty seat. He pushed her to her knees and sat, opening his fly with a big, dumb grin on his face. Cirilla crawled over and handed Julia a condom. On her way back, Lackey #1 swatted her ass.

He picked up a condom from the table and called out unprompted. “Turpentine.” He was unchallenged as he pulled her hair slightly to direct her to the coffee table. He knelt behind her, putting the condom on himself and arranging her on her knees with her hands resting on the table.

The room was awkwardly quiet with only Teddy and Lackey #1 making noise, moaning and muttering. The couple having sex on the love seat had finished and were dressing silently. Everyone else seemed to be kept in their seats by an uncomfortable sense of propriety.

Lackey #2 took Marta by surprise. He appeared by her elbow and slurred, “Hey, want me to show you a good time?”

Marta turned her head slowly, taking in the slight sway, unfocused eyes, flushed face.

“No, thank you,” she replied firmly.

The drunkard pouted. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He then slid a hand to rest on the base of Marta’s neck. Skin crawling, she fought the urge to bat it away.

“Alright. Hands behind your back,” she ordered forcefully. Lackey #2 blinked before a slow, stupid grin spread across his face. He complied with a wink. 

Stepping behind him, she whispered, “On your knees.” With difficulty but still playing along, he obeyed. She shepherded him to press his front against the front of an armchair. “Is your little cock hard?”

He stifled a laugh; half-offended, half-bashful as he replied, “It’s not little.”

“Is it pressed against the chair?” she asked, voice sultry.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Wiggle those hips a little. I want to make sure.”

He obeyed, groaning at the friction. 

“Good boy,” she praised, “now rut.”

“Huh?” he twisted a little to try to see her but she tutted.

“No. You want to come? You will rut against this chair like the dog you are.”

He choked and made to stand but she dug a fist into his hair and held the strands so firmly that he whined and fell back to his knees.

“Anyone who cannot control themselves is an animal.”

“Lemme go,” he whimpered, hands coming up to push against the chair.

“I said hands behind your back.” 

Her fingers in his hair twisted viciously and he yowled, “Okay! Okay!” He gave in and replaced them behind his back.

“Good boy.” She released his hair and stroked the side of his face. “Go on, now. Rut.”

He grunted and slowly began frotting as she continued to stroke his face and neck, once or twice pressing her fingers against the pressure points that always made Ransom moan. It felt wrong to use them on this pig, but it kept him gasping and moaning. After a while, his thrusts sped up.

“Are you close?” she asked, trying to inject boredom into her voice.

“Uh huh.”

“Use words,” she warned.

“Yes!” he breathed desperately.

“What was the first thing you asked me?”

“I…asked if you wanted me, to show you a good time,” he panted.

“And what did I say back?”

He hesitated so she plunged her fingers into his hair again. 

The remembered pain seemed enough of a motivator as he cried immediately. “You said ‘no’!”

“And then what did you do?”

“I asked again.”

“And?”

“And I touched your neck.”

“Why?”

He whined, but answered, “Because I… wanted to.”

“Because you lost control of yourself,” she leaned in, snarling now, “because you consider your needs worth more than mine.” She pulled his head back to an uncomfortable angle, his crotch no longer pressed against the chair. “Do you think you deserve to come?”

“Yes, please!” She pulled a little more and he gasped. “P-Please! Ah! What do you want?”

She released her grip a little. “Finally, you ask the right question.” Fighting to keep her voice steady she continued. “Listen carefully, dog. I want you to never touch anyone who has said ‘no’ to your offer, can you promise me that?”

“Yes, yes! I promise!”

“Then come.”

Desperately, he jerked his hips a few more times and then came in his pants, almost sobbing with the intensity.

“Good boy,” she said automatically and he shivered. Feeling sick, Marta stepped back and looked at Lauren.

“Let’s go,” Lauren suggested as she walked over and she merely exchanged nods with some of the others before leading Marta out of the study. Marta didn’t dare look at anyone, though she kept her chin high. She thought she heard laughter as they walked down the corridor, but tried to put it all out of her mind.

As they slipped into the car Lauren commented, “It’s not so simple, dealing with Teddy and his like. The whole system is designed to satisfy their urges where we can keep an eye on them. If we denied any member, they’d go elsewhere and risk the family name, potentially damaging stock values, business ventures amongst other things.” 

Marta could hear the conviction in Lauren’s voice but knew then that she herself would never be convinced. 

“He won’t forget that.” Lauren continued. “He was very interested in what you were doing with his friend. Everyone was.” 

“I didn’t notice.” Marta forced out, though her mouth was dry and her head was beginning to pound.

Lauren tutted, some disapproval in her voice. “I imagine the whole community will be falling over themselves to learn more about you over the coming weeks.”

Marta hummed non committedly and kept her gaze fixed on the few stars she could see in the sky. She wasn’t sure if the disapproval was for herself or the rabid curiosity of the community but couldn’t bring herself to care.

Lauren looked at her for a long moment, but didn’t comment further.  _ Small mercies _ , Marta thought.

For most of the ride, she considered quitting, considered apologising to Harlan, telling him that she would never fit in, would never be comfortable in their world. 

Then she thought of Ransom, bruised and defensive, wary of being abused. Ransom, voice hushed and eyes hungry, confessing his desire to please her.

Blinking back tears, she breathed in deeply and realized she had only one course of action.


	4. Trust

Ransom was aware of what other people thought of him, had been since he was a child. All bad things: lazy, stupid, bratty, entitled, desperate whore. Even Harlan. Despite finding humor in Ransom’s quick tongue and trying to protect him, the old man still despaired over his grandson’s vices, his flaws.

Uncle Neil used to tell him that nothing was wrong with being a slow reader, that taking more time to do something wasn’t shameful. Ransom had appreciated the support, but all too soon the lone voice against the choir was lost, and Ransom couldn’t sing to save his life.

Not that his academic skills – or lack thereof – mattered now. He fulfilled his obligations and was let loose the rest of the time: it was a great deal, far better than a mind-numbing 9-5. Sure he’d worried occasionally about Harlan getting on and some of his family and other families were jerks, but overall it was fine.

When Harlan had first suggested Marta as a replacement, Ransom had been so shocked he’d laughed in the old man’s face. They’d fought, bitterly; Harlan bringing up hard truths Ransom had been trying to avoid thinking about. In the end, the old man had been forced to order him to let the girl in.

To Ransom’s surprise, Marta had bucked all his expectations and proven to be a lion in mouse’s clothing. Tentative hope bloomed in him, and after he’d heard how she’s schooled Leery Larry, well, the hope grew. Maybe this could work long term.

Once he deemed them all as ready as they could be, Harlan called a family meeting. He deliberately didn’t inform Marta about it until a few minutes before they were due to start arriving. He’d correctly predicted that she would get anxious and had wanted to leave as little time as possible for any of her panicking. Ransom calmed her down surprisingly well, offering seemingly flippant remarks which caused her lip to tick upwards in response.

They all filed into the study; Linda looking attentive and curious, Robert bored, and Walt suspicious. Donna appeared as fragile and rudderless without Walt’s direction as usual – did that woman ever do anything by herself? Joni was desperately interested in the mysterious summons but trying to hide it with her airy hand-waving and nonsense sayings.

Ransom was glad that none of the children were old enough to join…though Meg wasn’t far off. He briefly considered her likely reaction to the whole thing but then the patriarch commanded the attention of the room. 

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you all here,” Harlan began and Ransom held back a snort. Trust the old man to be as dramatic as possible.

Poor Marta was still nervous. Some of the sharper relatives had noted her presence and Linda wrung her hands in her lap, no doubt coming to a conclusion involving Harlan’s poor health. The worry would soon turn to some kind of disgust or confusion. Ransom wanted to reassure Marta some more but knew better than to risk undermining her authority with unsolicited touches or comments.

“As some of you may know, I’ve been attempting to determine my successors to my various roles.” A few members shifted eagerly in their seats and Ransom barely contained his eye roll.

“I have chosen my successor as Ransom’s supervisor,” Harlan continued smoothly.

Walt perked up. The idiot. Ransom fought hard to fight his excitement at witnessing his uncle’s anger at being passed over for a non-relative. At not being bestowed with the responsibility or power over Ransom. Ever.

Without any more preamble, Harlan said bluntly, “I’ve chosen Marta.”

There was a stunned beat of silence.

Richard broke it first, guffawing. “Wow, how did you keep a straight face?”

Linda put a hand on her husband’s arm, still staring at her father. Richard looked down and then took in her expression. His head snapped back to Harlan, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Dad-” Walt choked out.

Harlan brushed some lint off his sleeve but his voice was firm when he intoned, “My decision is final. Ransom is in agreement.”

All eyes swivelled to Ransom and, though he didn’t move or change expression, he couldn’t help but tense. Marta was also considering him, her shining eyes were comforting, even as she looked worried. No matter their reaction, he wouldn’t change his mind – she was the best choice.

“How? No, you can’t do this, dad!” Walt protested first.

“She’s not family!” Linda burst out, then addressing Marta wincingly, “Sorry, kiddo, but this is too... Too sacred. He shouldn’t have brought you in on this!”

“Mom,” Ransom tried.

She looked to him but waved a hand in his direction before turning back to Harlan. Ransom wondered, not for the first time, if she would have been so dismissive had he been an accountant or something.

“There is no one else suitable,” Harlan cut down the next wave of protest.

Richard scoffed, offended in that prissy way he had, but Ransom was watching Walt. The bastard was looking back at him – the hate so strong Ransom imagined he could feel it against his skin. What a moron – as if Ransom would let someone who detested him dominate him for one second.

Dirty old man. Unable to help himself, Ransom made a mocking, childish face and Walt bared his teeth in response.

Slim fingers laid to perch on his arms. Ransom startled a little but instantly relaxed as he recognized Marta.

“I am sure you are all concerned,” she addressed the room calmly, “but I assure you that I am more than prepared to take on this role. I only have respect for this tradition and concern for Ransom’s welfare.”

Although he was already aware of everything she said, Ransom was still a little taken aback. It was one thing to express these intentions in private, another in front of his hostile family. Ah, he’d forgotten her involuntary dedication to the truth and also her strength of character. Timid yes, a coward, no.

He had to curl his fingernails into his palm to stave off the flood of arousal he felt at seeing that proud face tilted up slightly, a perfect mask. He wondered if she’d practiced in the mirror. Definitely, he decided.

Linda sat back in her chair, cogs turning behind her eyes. She would never  _ like  _ the arrangement, but she was the quickest of all of them. She’d be the first to accept it.

Joni reminded them all of her presence. “Well, it sounds like Marta knows what she’s getting into.”

Walt glared at her as Richard muttered, “You don’t even go.” Which was true. 

Ransom had never discovered the reason Joni didn’t ‘partake’, and didn’t really care to.

“If you’re sure, Ransom,” Linda said finally.

He nodded without hesitation.

Walt huffed and got up, eyes burning and lips curled into a sneer. “Come on.” He beckoned Donna and they both left.

Once he was gone, Ransom’s lungs opened up more fully. The hand on his arm squeezed and he glanced at Marta. Big, brown eyes looked back and he found himself smiling slightly.

Step 2 complete. Now they had to successfully navigate a gathering for Marta to be officially accepted as his supervisor.

No sweat.

…

They held Marta’s debut Gathering at the Thrombey mansion; it served to bolster Marta’s authority as she was familiar with the layout and while Harlan wasn’t going to be in the room, he’d be around in case of emergencies. Lauren had gone through the guest list with her, so Marta knew the tastes and quirks of each of the guests. She would have felt more prepared if she could have met them in person beforehand but Ransom pointed out that she didn’t need to make small talk or anything.

Teddy and his lackeys had been invited which made both Ransom and Marta very tense. Ransom was pretending to be unbothered, but Marta could read him. Every time he rubbed his wrist, she remembered the cuts there and her blood boiled.

Before everyone arrived, she’d gone to his room to dictate his attire. She had decided on a pair of tighty whities, both because he looked fantastic in them and because she didn’t want any anal play. The guests could be serviced by the rest of his body, but she wasn’t comfortable enough to judge how responsible and attentive they were. She wasn’t taking any chances.

Ransom’s lips had twitched but he didn’t comment as he’d put them on. When he reached for his collar, Marta stopped him, taking the simple leather strap herself. Stepping around him, she buckled it around his neck.

“How’s that?”

He swallowed. “Good.”

The collar didn’t have any distinguishing patterns or writing on it, only meant to serve as a marker for everyone to know who was a server and who wasn’t. Still, as she came back in front of him, Marta whispered, “You’re mine.”

Ransom shivered. “Yes, mistress.” 

Bryson attended with one of his ‘girls’ for those whose tastes ran more feminine, though he’d announced to Marta that she was in charge. After everyone had been formally introduced, the businessman she’d seen at the previous Gathering turned to Marta and requested a blow job from Ransom. Marta bit back the surprise at the directness, as well as the strangeness of the situation. She considered Ransom’s expression; it appeared neutral except for his eyes, which were lit up. Hiding a smile, she gave permission as Bryson sent his server to the handsy couple.

Anyway, Ransom looked almost radiant; his pale skin taught over his chest and abs, long limbs strong and relaxed. Marta watched fascinated, as Ransom sucked off the businessman – Clarkson. She’d only ever seen him working on a dildo, Lauren instructing her to differentiate between sounds of pleasure and distress.

_ Wow _ , Marta thought to herself,  _ he really enjoys this _ . Ransom was kneeling in front of Clarkson’s seat, leaning in as far as he could go without impaling himself on the stout cock. Ransom still managed to moan with his mouth full, eyelids fluttering when Clarkson pulled at his hair. His hands were by his sides, fingers curling and uncurling every so often. Marta hadn’t given him any particular instructions but she gathered from Clarkson’s groans that Ransom knew exactly how the man liked it and that his hands weren’t necessary.

Taking a sip of her wine, Marta considered if Ransom would enjoy blowing a strap on; perhaps she could conduct an experiment another time, something they’d both enjoy.

Once Clarkson came, the husband and wife – Jonathan and Melinda – were next. Once Marta had respectfully refused Jonathan’s request for anal, they’d decided that Jonathan would fuck between Ransom’s thighs before Ransom would eat Melinda out.

Ransom slicked up his inner thighs and then got on all fours, crossing one knee over the other. Marta watched as his abs flexed and arms took on a lot of weight. Jonathan lined up behind him and cursed as he slid his cock between the slippery thighs. He gripped Ransom’s hips, pulling himself in as far as he could, biting his lip and whining.

Marta observed Ransom’s face and body closely, looking for signs of undue stress. He was having to do a lot of work to stay upright, especially as the speed of Jonathan’s thrusts increased, but Ransom hardly showed the effort. He started sweating, but that was about it. Her eyes followed the path of a single bead of sweat round the curve of his cheek and she wanted to lick it off, wanted to push him, see how much he could and would endure for her.

The husband came quickly and Ransom moved onto the wife. The other couple had climaxed and Bryson’s server was rutting against Clarkson now, getting him hard again.

As Ransom was pleasuring Melinda with his wicked tongue, Marta heard voices down the hall. She swallowed, guessing who had arrived. Straightening a little in her seat, she smoothed her dress and put her wine glass down. When the study doors opened and Teddy sauntered in with his lackeys, her expression hardly changed.

Teddy looked around the room, nodding to Lauren and Bryson.

“Auntie! Bry-Bry! Good to see you.”

His eyes passed over Marta and he smirked, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her. Larry, the man Marta had dominated last time, avoided looking at her for too long. She ignored him, instead watching as Teddy focused on Ransom and the wife. Ransom had been too preoccupied to notice the newcomers, but as the wife climaxed and he pulled away, his whole body tensed. His eyes locked with Teddy’s for a moment, before Ransom looked to Marta.

Teddy smirked and took a step towards him.

“Theodore, was it?”

He stopped and turned to Marta, who hadn’t moved from her chair. Pretending to notice her for the first time, he did a mock-bow. “Ah, the new girl! You can call me Teddy.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“I just said: the new gi-”

“I’m Ransom’s supervisor,” she cut over him, patience thinning.

Teddy pulled himself up, assessing her seriously. After a moment, he huffed a laugh, “Okay?”

“So I don’t know what you think you’re about to do,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

His expression flattened, all pretence of friendliness gone.

“What I’m here for,” he snapped.

“How strange is it, that despite being ‘new’ as you put it, I know more of the protocols than you do.”

Teddy bared his teeth but managed to reign himself in, mock-simpering as he reached for Ransom’s arm. “Oh, forgive me. I will be-”

“No,” Marta interrupted. “You have not asked for permission. And I do not give it.”

Teddy stared, vein in his neck pulsing. Marta looked at Ransom and the slight shine in his eyes strengthened her resolve. Ignoring the rest of the room, she nodded slightly. Ransom stood. Teddy watched open-mouthed and his hand shot out to grab Ransom’s arm. Reacting immediately, Ransom twisted sharply enough to dislodge Teddy’s hold and with his other arm, brought Teddy to his knees in a headlock.

“Let go! What the Hell are you doing?” Teddy cried.

Marta saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, no one else in the room moved. Even Teddy’s lackeys were held in place.

Although he struggled weakly, Teddy wasn’t going anywhere.

“You have not asked for permission. And I do not give it,” Marta repeated.

She stood then, barely able to keep her voice from shaking.

“Go out and screw every prostitute from here to the coast. Fuck until your cock turns green and falls off. I don’t care. You will never touch him again.”

Teddy’s face contorted even more, so red Marta swore she could feel the heat of his blood. She glanced at Ransom and nodded. Ransom let go, Teddy staggering to avoid face-planting on the floor.

Gasping, the brat looked around wildly at the guests. “Well? Are you just going to let her say that to me?”

No one answered. Harrumphing like a spoilt child, Teddy collected his lackeys and stormed out.

In the hushed wake of his departure, Marta spoke again, “Anyone I have to lecture about consent is not welcome here, nor welcome to be served by Ransom.”

Jonathan inclined his head, “Understood, Marta.”

A few others made noises of understanding even Bryson’s eyebrows were raised in surprise. Lauren was shaking her head ever so slightly but Marta didn’t care. Ransom’s smiling eyes were enough for her.


	5. Thank You

“I feel like I should build a statue of you or something.”

It was late. They’d seen off all the guests and dismissed the staff. Although she’d managed to avoid a lecture from Lauren, Marta’s shoulders were hunched as she plucked off her earrings. Ransom was on his knees, rolling down her stockings and smiling.

Marta huffed. “I doubt anyone else would be behind that idea.”

“Screw ‘em.”

Marta barked a laugh and Ransom looked up, eyes twinkling. He carefully laid her stockings on a nearby chair and then settled back on his heels patiently. Marta studied him; he looked light, untroubled, happy. Her heart clenched and then melted a little.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Marta’s heart went even squishier. Well, there really wasn’t much point in holding back now.

“You really want to thank me?”

Catching her meaning, he breathed, “Yes, mistress.”

She stood and walked to the centre of the room. “Help me with my dress.”

He scrambled up and unzipped her dress, taking the straps off her shoulders and swallowing thickly as it fell to the floor. Marta stepped out of the dress and turned, letting him look his fill of her plain black bra and panties. His appreciative expression was a huge ego boost.

She briefly considered the wealth of toys in the closet, but then discarded the thought. Tonight, she just wanted him.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Garnet,” he answered immediately.

“You are only to touch me when I say and you will follow my exact instructions.”

­“Yes, mistress.”

“You will not come without permission.”

“Yes, mistress.”

She stepped into his space and outlined his jaw with her thumb. “What a good boy you are.”

Ransom shivered but held still.

“You did really well tonight. I am so proud of you.”

Ransom’s dilated even more and his next breath was a little shaky.

“Pinch my nipples through my bra.”

Ransom obeyed. She gave him more instructions, delighting as he followed them exactly and growing wetter under his attention. He slowly peeled off her bra and used his teeth to tug down her panties, all under her heated gaze.

Finally, she led them to the bed. She lay down and spread her legs, instructing him to finger her and describe the sensation.

“You’re so wet, mistress.”

“Mmm... what else?”

“So hot and tight and gorgeous.”

Unable to help herself, she reached up and pulled him down for an open-mouthed kiss. Ransom responded enthusiastically, bracing himself over her on one elbow whilst his other hand was still busy inside of her. Marta moaned and panted, all her carefully thought out plans flying out of the window.

­“Fuck me,” she breathed.

Ransom pulled back, studying her face for a long moment. Then he grinned.

“Yes, mistress.”

Thank God she’d had the foresight to throw a couple of condoms in the nightstand.

They made love, Marta couldn’t really describe it any other way. Yes, it was fast and passionate but it didn’t feel rushed. Ransom held her gaze as he entered her and they both whispered praises and sweet nothings to each other.

As Ransom continued thrusting through Marta’s second orgasm, she was reminded of Bryson’s comment about Ransom’s stamina.  _ Well, he wasn’t wrong,  _ she thought.

Remembering herself, she raked her nails over Ransom’s buttocks and ordered. “Come now.” 

He came with a loud groan, face scrunched up and muscles trembling. With a long sigh, he collapsed beside her and they lay there for a while, getting their breath back.

“Thank you, mistress.”

Blushing, Marta ran a clumsy hand through his hair. “My pleasure.”

Ransom hummed, eyes sliding shut and Marta scooted over, pulling the covers over both of them. Ransom snuggled closer.

“Is this okay?” Marta asked.

Ransom opened one eye. “More than.”

They fell asleep quickly and dreamed deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for now, I may return to this world in the future and do some one-shots. Let me know if there's anything specific you want to see.  
> Thanks for reading  
> :D


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